Why I need to get real
1. Just as I was about to put fingers to keyboard, a dark and mysterious stranger pulled up to my house on a white horse, ran up the stairs, a black cloak sweeping behind him, and grabbed me to his chest, saying, 'This is the moment I have been waiting for, my darling. Come with me to strange and exotic lands where I will feed you with sweetmeats and wine made from grapes crushed by the powerful hands of desert swordsmen. We will sleep in a bed made from the skins of wildebeest and lay our heads on cushions covered with silk threads sewn by ancient grandmothers. We will bathe together in soft waters, warmed by fires built on hot coals and be fed Eastern delights by dancing naiads. I will clutch you to my muscled body and not let you go'.
But it wasn't that.
2. Just as I was about to put fingers to keyboard, the phone rang and a voice said, 'This is the Chief Editorial Director of Penguin Books for the Most Discerning Reader here and I rang to say, where have you been all my life? I don't care whether it's your memoirs, your novel, a couple of unfinished short stories, a shopping list written on the back of a grubby piece of A4, or that serviette on which you scribbed, 'Ring chemist about haemorrhoid cream', I'll take it, I'll take it, and within days you will be in the running for the Booker and signing copies of your latest blockbuster in Harrods. Come immediately and I will wine and dine you in a five star hotel before giving you your contract worth three million pounds and sending you to Barbados to start your next book.'
But it wasn't that either.
3. Just as I was about to put fingers to keyboard, I received an email from a London modelling agency. Here's what it said: 'Dear Fran. I'm contacting you because fat is the new thin. Thin is just so last year, sweetie. Who needs size 0 models when we can get models already shaped like a zero? Who needs models who are seven foot three when we could get models who are five foot two and save us money on leather for the new exciting thigh boots? Who needs models whose protruding scapulas make them look like they've swallowed a coathanger when we can get nice plump models whose scapulas disappeared from public view sixteen years ago and whose bra straps are so thick and reinforced that you can't see the scapula anyway? Fran, it's your moment. Come and model for us tomorrow - we have a possible contract with a camping gear manufacturer who is interested in our new modelling concept and it's women like you that we need. We pay £1000 an hour.'
But it wasn't that either.
No, it was none of those. I've just been too damn busy ....